These posts are not in chronological order. A few days before the announcement of the birth of the phone box I mistakenly tried to speed up my reengagement with a not so ‘early-Pink Floyd inspired-world’ by dramatically dropping most of my pain killers. The back pain had really got so much better and as you know I was eager to get to Maplin. I thought I could make do with just one three times a day, exceeding the hospitals expectations and hopefully getting their praise and admiration for my fortitude – and for almost a day I felt ok – then wham – first I thought I had the flu – then I seemed to be overtaken by complete lethargy, could not be bothered with anything not even the box – then disproportionate self indulgent despair, which to be honest I kept quite, but it was eating at me from the inside out, aggressively  consuming the sense of well-being that has been propping me up. The world turned horrible. Then I read the back of the packets and heeded the advice of my lovely wife – slowly, slowly, slowly – so here I am first thing in the morning happy as Larry and back on five a day – phew. Only interesting development is that despair in life is replaced by despair in dreams- I woke up having had what seemed like five hours of coming to terms with my own mortality through consultation with a shop assistant at Wilkos who said I was irresponsible not to be concentrating on growing potatoes for my wife and family as I was sure to die very soon. So advice, don’t disbelieve the warnings of withdrawal symptoms from prescription drugs – I thought it was a load of old ‘Trainspotting’ nonsense and that I was too tough to pussy foot around with that sort of health and safety crap, do read the instructions that come with the drugs and do worship at the temple of the pharmacists who make life and pain so much better so easily. As you may have gathered my continuing state of relative incarceration has revitalised my blog writing. Send me all your news please and plant those potatoes.